


Make the Most of Our Time

by Fragged



Category: Stargate Universe
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 11:38:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4704695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fragged/pseuds/Fragged
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Young and Rush get dirty in the shower.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make the Most of Our Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yoyi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yoyi/gifts).



He knows it's not a good idea. Well, it _is_ , but it's not a smart idea. 

Rush is waiting for him inside, though, a kino remote in hand and a hot flush of anticipation on his cheeks, and Young thinks he probably doesn't care about all the things that could go wrong as much as he should. 

“Finally,” Rush huffs out, but Young can tell he says it mostly for form, because he's already staring down at the remote as he punches in a number of commands. 

“You sure this is going to work?” Young asks, itching with the need to get Rush out of his clothes already. 

Rush finishes with the kino remote and all but tosses it onto the metal bench. “We've got at least an hour,” he answers, starting to undo the buttons on his vest with practiced ease. 

Young watches him for a moment before pushing into his space and batting Rush's hands away, taking over from him. “Let me,” he growls, and Rush just chuckles and lets him, and _God_ , he really loves the guy. He's not going to say it – he doesn't know if he even _can_ , and he's not sure Rush would thank him for it or simply shove him away – but in the privacy of his own mind he knows that he truly does. 

When Rush's vest is gone, draped over the bench haphazardly, next to the kino remote, Young hooks his fingers into the hems of Rush's shirts and pulls them over his head in one smooth move. “Shoes,” he says, and Rush doesn't say anything as he works open the laces on his shoes before stepping out of them. 

“You're worried an hour won't be enough?” Rush asks, a small quirk to his lips. 

“Just wanna make the most of it,” Young answers, tossing his jacket onto the growing pile of clothes before shrugging out of his own shirt. He kicks off his boots and starts working on his belt and pants as Rush does the same. By the time they're down to stripping off their socks Young is already half hard. Rush curls his fingers around his cock before stepping backwards into the stall, practically leading him by his dick. It shouldn't make him harder, but for some reason it does, and as soon as Rush turns the knob on the shower Young presses him into the wall, kissing him as his fingers tangle into Rush's stringy hair. 

God, Rush knows how to kiss – just hard enough, with just enough teeth to keep Young on his toes – and he really thinks he'd be happy spending their entire hour just doing this, just getting lost in the warmth of the mist and the heat of Rush's mouth and the pulsing arousal in his balls. 

Rush's arms come up to claw into his shoulders, and Young moans when Rush pushes his hips forward to grind their erections together. 

They really shouldn't be doing this. 

They also really should've done this a long time ago. 

They've been having sex for months, now, and while at first is was little more than a 'let's just relieve some of this pent-up stress and frustration by slamming each other into every hard surface we can find and rubbing our way to reciprocal orgasms' kind of thing, by now Young thinks it's grown into something bigger. Something much deeper. 

“Young,” Rush groans, scratching his nails harder into the skin of Young's shoulders. “Come on, fuck me.” 

Young huffs out a hard breath. For some reason he still hasn't gotten used to Rush just telling him what he wants like this. He hopes he never does, because it's intoxicating. 

“Patience,” he says – which feels kind of hypocritical when all he can think about is just pushing Rush up against the stall door and thrusting into the hollow of his belly until he finds release. He breaks away from Rush's grip and flips him around so his chest is pressing into the wall, and starts running his hands over Rush, rubbing the cleaning mist over his shoulders, under his arms, down the length of his back. He slides his hands over the backs of Rush thighs before inching higher again, gathering some of the mist between his cupped palms and massaging it into the globes of Rush's ass, and then into his crack. He cleans Rush, thoroughly, and Rush is quiet aside from a few panted breaths. Then Young sinks to his knees and licks a hot stripe from the edge of Rush's balls all the way past his puckered entrance, and Rush lurches forward and curses, loudly. 

Young grins and continues to lap his tongue over the tight bud of Rush's opening. He's never done this before, _they've_ never done this before, but judging by Rush's reactions it is working for him. 

“Jesus!” Rush cries, somehow squirming away from his tongue as much as he seems to be trying to push back into it. “Oh my God, _Jesus_!” 

Young spreads Rush's cheeks to get better access and pushes a wet, sloppy kiss onto his entrance before prodding against it to get inside, inside _Rush_ , until the tight walls of his opening give just enough to wriggle his tongue in there, and then Rush really loses it. 

“Young, _Young_ ,” he pants, in between choked off moans and a high-pitched keening sound that Young has never heard from him before. “Fuck, you can't—you aren't—oh! _Oh!_ Oh my God.” 

Young would probably be grinning right now if he wasn't so busy eating Rush out, and Jesus, he can honestly say he'd never in a million years imagined himself doing something like this, but it's fucking hot. The way Rush clenches around him, the broken sobbing sounds that keep falling from Rush's lips, the deep, aching throb in Young's own cock... yeah, he can see himself doing this again. 

He gathers more of the gel-like mist in his hand and moves his face back to press two fingers into Rush. By now the man is little more than a trembling mess, clinging to the wall of the shower stall like it's the only thing keeping him upright, and before long Young is thrusting three fingers into him, opening him wide as his tongue laves over Rush's balls. 

“Please,” Rush pants, barely audible over the sound of the shower and the wet squelch of Young's fingers in his ass. “Please, Young, I need...” 

Young leans back on his heel, takes one last look at the way his fingers spread Rush open wide, and gets to his feet. 

“Turn around,” he says against the side of Rush's ear. Rush whimpers. Young can feel the hard shiver wracking Rush's frame, but he lets his hands slide down the edge of the partition and does as Young says. 

Christ, he looks _ruined_ , and Young feels his own cock lurch dangerously at the sight of Rush's puffy lips, his heavy-lidded eyes, his flushed cheeks. His hair is matted damply against his skull, and Young almost lets the words he's been keeping bottled up fall from his lips. 

“Young,” Rush moans, circling his arms around Young's neck and pulling him in for a hard kiss. Young closes his eyes and allows himself to get lost in it for a few moments. God, Rush is... He's goddamn perfect.

Young grabs hold of Rush's thighs and hoists him up, waits for Rush to wrap his legs around his hips and hold on tight, and then he pushes him back into the wall of the shower stall as he lets his right hand wander lower, to his own dick – slick with precome and the mist – so he can angle it up against Rush's opening. 

“Yeah, yeah, come on,” Rush mumbles against his lips, and then Young is pushing forward, pushing _in_ , until they're skin to skin, completely taken over by each other. He pulls back and thrusts deeper, and Rush throws his head back and _wails_ , and then everything becomes a blur of slick slides and hard pressure and chasing the ever tightening coil of release in his lower belly. 

His hold on Rush feels like it's slipping, so he ignores his burning muscles and hoists Rush up higher with a sudden burst of strength. Rush muffles a moan when he sinks down and Young's cock slides into him even deeper, and Young squeezes hard into the meat of Rush's thighs as he increases his pace. 

“Rush, I—fuck, _Rush_ ,” Young hears himself babble, and then Rush lets his own hand steal down to his dick and jerks it two, three times before crying out, and everything around Young explodes into tight, pulsating pressure. 

He groans and thrusts up harder, more erratically, until he too is coming, spurting his release into Rush until everything stops moving. It takes him a full second to realize the breathless “I love you, I love you,” isn't coming from him, and _Jesus_ – his knees buckle and they crash to the floor. 

“Oh my God,” Rush pants, winding his arms tighter around his neck and burying his face into Young's hair. 

Young doesn't know what to say. He's not... he's not sure he's ever felt this way before, but Christ, Rush just said... 

“Rush,” he moans, feeling a last few uncontrolled flutters of Rush's inner walls against him. 

They're on the floor, breathing hard, the mist still raining down on them, and Young wants nothing more than to stay like this, just like this. To prolong this moment forever. 

“Colonel,” Rush murmurs, when they both seem to be reasonably able to speak again. “I...” 

Young doesn't know what he's going to say, but he doesn't want to give Rush the chance to take it back, so he pulls away just far enough to see Rush's face again before kissing him deeply. “Me too,” he says, between kisses. “I love you, too.” 

Rush seems to kind of melt into him, then, and yes. Yes, he thinks. This is what he wanted. 

This is what he's always wanted.


End file.
